“You just said that horse is a killer.” She crumpled the handbill. “And you said there’s plenty of work here. In St. Joseph.”
The redhead named Jake sprinted past again, this time with an older man in tow. “Hey, Emmet! You chickening out?” he called. Then he paused and turned to Ira as the doctor hurried on. “Doctor wants to use one of the wagons to haul the patient away.”
The old man departed to help with the injured rider, and Annie latched onto Emmet’s arm. “Don’t do it,” she begged. “Please. What would Luvina say?”
That made him hesitate. He seemed to mull it over, but then he shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter. Earl Aiken will never give permission for us to get hitched unless I can provide for his daughter.” Gently, he pried her hand off his arm. “This is my chance to do that and get you a little place—before Luvina forgets me.”
“She won’t forget,” Annie said. Guilt flickered at the burden sharing her dream of a little house had placed on her brothers. She should have kept that to herself. She’d never meant it to weigh them down. “I don’t expect you and Frank to do everything on your own. I got—” The words a job and rooms were drowned out by renewed shouting and hollering from the back lot.
Emmet stood up and put his hat back on. “You don’t have to watch,” he hollered. “It’ll be over before you know it.”
Emmet hurried back outside. Again, the horse screamed. The horrible sound sent a chill up Annie’s spine. What if Frank or Emmet got hurt? Or worse. She couldn’t bear to just sit here and wait. Nor could she bring herself to join the raucous crowd. If Emmet saw her, he’d probably order her back inside, anyway. She glanced up. The loft. No one would expect her to be up there. She’d be able to see into the back lot. She could watch in peace—or hide. At the moment she wasn’t sure which it would be. At least she’d have a chance to collect herself before facing—whatever might happen.
Gathering her skirts, she scaled the ladder and made her way across to the open haymow door, ducking down behind a pile of fresh hay so the men below wouldn’t see her. She could see a bit of what was going on if she peered over the top. Luther was in the corral helping three other men restrain the horse. Near the street, two men hoisted a makeshift litter and bore the injured man away.
When a boy she’d never seen before slid into the saddle, the animal screamed and lunged, but failed to break free. Annie ducked down, her heart pounding. When the crowd roared, she looked again. The hopeful rider signaled that he was ready and the men who’d been restraining the horse dove through the corral poles to safety. The creature reared. Coming down on all fours, it twisted and bucked. In seconds, the young rider went flying. He rolled beneath the bottom corral pole, barely ahead of the flashing hooves.
Frank was up next. That horse is evil Emmet had said. Annie gulped. She directed a please toward heaven just before Frank scaled the corral poles and settled into the saddle. The horse strained to be released. Frank tugged at his hat to settle it firmly on his head. He shifted his weight in the saddle. The animal whinnied a protest. The second it was released, the creature reared up, pawing the air. Terrified, Annie ducked down, desperate for it to be over. Listening. Wishing she could pray better.
The second Frank slid into the saddle, he felt the horse collect himself, ready to explode with fury the moment the men holding him let go. Envisioning closing an iron vise about the horse’s midsection with his legs, Frank gathered the reins to keep the animal in check. He nodded. The men let go and dove out of the way.
The shouts and sounds of the crowd faded. Frank was aware of nothing but the surging beast; its flying mane and flashing hooves; the tremendous power rippling beneath a gleaming black coat, all of it focused on freeing itself of the unwelcome weight on its back. When Outlaw arched his back and crow-hopped across the corral, Frank clenched his jaw and stayed put. The horse twisted and bounced, surged and fought. Every muscle in Frank’s body screamed, every joint protested. He choked on dust, but still he hung on. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a shot rang out, signaling the end of the longest three minutes of Frank’s life. He flung himself out of the saddle, keenly aware of Outlaw charging to the far side of the corral. Taking a hasty bow, Frank trotted to safety. Men pounded him on the back. Congratulations rang out.
The redheaded kid who’d helped haul the injured rider away grabbed his hand and pumped it. “That was something! Best ride yet!”
This was better than winning a race for old man Hillsdale. Today, no one else would try to take the credit.
Annie hadn’t wanted to watch, but in the end she hadn’t been able to resist. She nearly cried with relief when Frank ducked out of the corral. Safe. Whole. The joy lasted only seconds, though, for Emmet would ride next—and Emmet wasn’t quite as good as Frank. When he mounted, she closed her eyes. Please don’t let him get hurt. He talks to you all the time. Just—please. She heard rather than saw what happened next. A loud crack, a collective oh, a thud, and horrible silence. With her hand clamped over her mouth to keep the scream in, she peered over the hay and down into the back lot. Emmet lay in the dust just outside the corral. Still.
Her heart in her throat, Annie spun about and charged toward the ladder, but before she reached it, a collective cry went up from the crowd. “He’s okay!” She hurried back to the haymow door to see what was happening below. Frank was helping Emmet up. Talking. Nodding. Slapping him on the back.
“He wants to go again,” Frank called out.
Anger replaced fear and dread. Go again? Had they both lost their minds? The crowd was silent for a moment, and then a tall man wearing a knee-length black coat and a broad-brimmed hat stepped forward. Emmet strode to where the stranger was standing and argued his case. He must have argued well. The man raised one hand and drew a circle in the air, as if preparing to throw a lasso. The crowd cheered. Luther Mufsy and the others took the black horse in hand.
Annie hunkered down again. Hiding. Closing her eyes, she waited, alternating between inwardly cursing the gol-durned horse and swearing at her dad-gummed brothers. And then she begged God to please forgive her bad thoughts and to keep Emmet from breaking his fool neck. I’m not good at the words, but you know what I want. What we need. Please.
It seemed to take an eternity, but when cheers finally rang out and Annie dared to look down, Emmet was—miraculously—safe. The black horse stood in the middle of the corral, head down. Four men moved in to subdue him, but the animal seemed done in. When he submitted to the removal of saddle and bridle without protest, someone shouted that the Paxton brothers had broken Outlaw. “Three cheers for the Paxtons! Three cheers for the Pony Express!”
Annie stayed seated, trembling with fear. The black-and-white cat emerged from a corner of the loft and minced toward her. Inviting itself to curl up in her lap, it began to purr as Annie stroked the soft fur absentmindedly. It seemed a long time since she’d traipsed into St. Joseph with such a clear vision of what lay ahead. It hurt to face the stark truth that both her brothers had abandoned their plan—at the first opportunity. Without so much as talking to her about it. Without considering her feelings. Without including her. Apparently, neither Emmet nor Frank shared her vision of the future, after all.
Chapter 4
The crowd in the back lot had dispersed and Annie had calmed down before one of her brothers came looking for her. You’ve always known they’d go their own way at some point. It’s just happening sooner than you expected. There was always a ray of light if a body looked hard enough. She would find it—although it might take a while. In the meantime she wasn’t going to pretend to be happy about the way things were turning out.
At the first sound of someone climbing the ladder, the cat bolted. Annie sat with her hands folded in her lap. Waiting. The top of a head appeared. Auburn hair. Of course. Frank would be the one to talk to her first. Being twins, she and Frank had always been closer to one another than to Emmet. But that wasn’t going to matter today. If Frank expected her to make this easy, he was going to be disa
ppointed.
Instead of sitting down beside her, Frank leaned against the haymow doorframe, staring down into the back lot for a while. Saying nothing. Annie curled her arms about her knees and tucked her chin. Waiting. Staring off toward the opposite end of the loft.
Finally, Frank took a deep breath and said quietly, “Two hundred dollars a month, Annie. With both Emmet and me riding for the Pony, we’ll be able to give you the home you want.”
She didn’t look at him. “Unless you break your neck on some midnight run aboard a half-wild horse. Or get shot by road agents. Or run over by stampeding buffalo. Or scalped by Indians.”
Frank snorted. “We both just rode the worst they had to offer, and we broke him. Outlaw’s no threat to anyone anymore. Shoot, I might even ask the Pony to let me ride him on my part of the trail. One thing that horse has is grit.”
Annie shrugged. She could feel him looking at her, but she refused to look back.
“As to road agents, the Pony only carries mail—no money. There’s nothing valuable to rob. And there’s no Indians scalping people where we’re going.”
Where we’re going. Not “where we might go.” Where we’re going. That made her look at him. Frowning. “You’ve already agreed to it?”
He came to sit beside her. “The station’s called Clearwater. Luther told us all about it. It started out as a trading post. Now it’s also a regular stop for the Overland Stage. It sounds like a good place. Better than our old farm, for sure. Almost a village, spring through fall. There’s a store inside the station, a big barn, and several corrals. Two wells with cold, clear water. Emmet and I will both ride out of there. I’ll ride west and Emmet will bring the California mail back this way. A hundred miles each way and then back again, with Clearwater as home. Luther says there isn’t any serious Indian trouble to worry about. It’s less than a dozen miles to Fort Kearny, and they send out daily patrols.” He paused, obviously waiting for Annie to say something.
All she could manage was, “It’s not what we talked about.”
Frank reached over to chuck her under the chin. “But it could be better.”
She shrugged. “I got the job at the Patee House. And rooms at Miss Stanton’s. Ira—he said I should call him Ira—put in a good word for us.”
“He told us. You did good, Annie. Real good. But—Emmet says this is better. The answer to his prayers. I think he’s right.”
“When have you ever cared about Emmet’s prayers?” She regretted the bitter tone, but she didn’t apologize for it.
Frank nudged her shoulder. “Just because I don’t talk to God doesn’t mean I don’t think he’d listen to a good man like Emmet and help him out.” When Annie remained quiet, he said, “There’s more to it than just making money. We’ll be making history. Think of it, Annie. The president in Washington City telegraphs a letter, and ten days after it leaves St. Jo., the governor of California is reading it. Ten days. Not weeks. Days.” He paused. “Only about eighty men in the history of the world will ever be able to say they were good enough to be part of that first ride. Imagine it, Annie—carrying a letter written by the president’s own hand. Emmet and I will be telling our grandchildren about it when we’re old.”
Grandchildren. It was the first time Frank had ever come close to talking about getting married and having children. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Frank this excited about anything.
He ducked his head and looked her in the eye. “We’re supposed to report to the Pony office at that fancy hotel in a little while—Emmet, Jake, and me. To take the rider’s oath.” Again, he nudged her shoulder. “You’ll come and witness it—right?”
They’re going. No matter what I say. It’s done. Annie’s throat constricted. Frank reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Please. We came to St. Jo. for a fresh start. This is it. We’ll earn enough money to get a little house here in town. Emmet will be able to get married. He’ll have a hope of putting a down payment on some good land.” He arched one eyebrow and adjusted the kerchief knotted about his neck as if it were a fancy cravat. “I’ll be famous. Everybody wins.” He winked at her.
Annie had never been able to stay angry with Frank for long. He was just too… charming. “It’s a lot to take in. Especially when we didn’t so much as talk about it before you both took the job.” She cleared her throat to keep her voice from wavering. “I thought we’d stay together. Not always, of course, but—at least for a little while. I didn’t think you’d both go off on your own all at once. So soon.”
Frank frowned. “Wait a minute—you thought—you think Emmet and me—that we were leaving you here in St. Jo.? Alone?” Palms up, he waggled both hands back and forth. “No, no. That is not gonna happen. Clearwater’s more than just a stage stop. Like I said, it’s a trading post. A blacksmith and a crew work the place, spring through fall. The station keeper needs a cook. We got you the job—and you’ll stay as long as we ride for the Pony Express.”
Speechless, Annie just stared at him.
Frank leaned close and nudged her shoulder. “You didn’t think you’d get rid of us that easy, did you? You’re going with us.”
She twisted about so she could face him. “You got me a job. Cooking. At a place that’s hundreds of miles from St. Jo. Without talking to me?”
The furrow between his brows deepened. “You were upset when you thought we were leaving without you. Now you’re upset because we aren’t?” He reached for both her hands and gave them a little shake. “It’s only for a couple of years—at the most. We’ll save our money, and when we all come back to St. Jo.—together—we won’t need any sour-faced landlady’s charity. Luvina’s pa won’t be able to stand in Emmet’s way. We’ll get you a little house and I’ll paint the trim. By the way, is it still blue?” The black-and-white cat came into view. It sat, looking first at Annie and then at Frank. “New friend?” he asked. Letting go of her hands, he picked up a long piece of straw, and enticed the animal to play.
At the sound of a distant steam whistle, Annie looked across the tops of the buildings toward the river just in time to see a puff of steam dissipate. Beyond the river, the rolling landscape was just beginning to turn green. With a sigh, she asked, “You said two years at most?”
“At most.”
“And then we’re coming back to St. Jo.”
“Isn’t that what I just said? ‘… when we all come back to St. Jo. together.’”
Slowly, Annie stood up. As she headed for the ladder, she called over her shoulder. “Yes. Blue trim. But before you paint the trim, I want those window boxes so I can plant flowers.”
Annie had barely stepped off the last rung of the ladder when Emmet joined them, clearly bent on doing his part to prove that working for the Pony Express was a wonderful opportunity. “We’ll use Pa’s cash box. When the paymaster comes through, Frank and I will hand every penny over to you. You can keep the key on that ribbon around your neck.” He looked over at Frank. “Did you tell her how much she’s earning?” Frank shook his head, and Emmet said, “Twenty dollars a month. Between the three of us, in just two years we could have almost five thousand dollars.”
Annie tried to envision someone handing her a twenty-dollar gold piece at the end of every month. She’d never had that much money in her life. And thousands of dollars? It was too much to take in.
“There’s more,” Frank said. “All the Pony Express riders stay and eat at the Patee House. And since you’ll be working at Clearwater, so will you. Starting today and going until we leave.”
“When’s that?”
“Not for a few days at least. We’re going out with Luther’s outfit, and he has to wait for supplies to arrive from downriver. There’s a dance in the ballroom tonight. Think you can remember how to waltz?”
What could a girl say to all of that? It was only for a couple of years. And the money. She’d seen the Pony Express flyer with her own eyes or she wouldn’t have believed it. It wasn’t as if Frank and Emmet had tricked her
into swallowing a tadpole. Or tasting the frost on the pump handle. And when it came right down to it, she couldn’t imagine life without her dad-blasted brothers.
“I, Franklin Emory Paxton, do hereby swear, before the Great and Living God, that during my engagement, and while an employee of Russell, Majors, and Waddell, I will, under no circumstances, use profane language, that I will drink no intoxicating liquors, that I will not quarrel or fight with any other employee of the firm, and that in every respect I will conduct myself honestly, be faithful to my duties, and so direct my acts as to win the confidence of my employers, so help me God.”
Even as he said them, the words gave Frank pause. First because he’d never taken an oath before and the solemnity of the moment carried weight. Second because it was obvious that the owners of the freighting company organizing the Pony Express—Russell, Majors, and Waddell—were darned serious about what they expected of the men who worked for them. Not that Frank intended to be anything but a trustworthy employee. Promising not to use profane language was all right—especially for Annie’s sake. Not fighting with other employees only made sense. In-fighting among the jockeys during that short season he’d worked for Hiram Hillsdale had dragged everything down. The promise not to drink was problematic, though. After all, even educated men like doctors knew that whiskey had its benefits. Still, they were paying him $100 a month. He supposed they could make the rules.
After the oath, Superintendent Lewis shook each man’s hand and presented him with a leather-bound Bible printed especially for the riders. Emmet expressed heartfelt thanks for his. Frank wondered how many would get “lost” as soon as the riders left town. Still, when he walked out of that office a Pony Express rider, Frank felt just a little taller.
Frank and Emmet returned to the livery to retrieve the three trunks stowed there, leaving Annie to sign them all in at the hotel desk. As if there was nothing to it. As if she was used to sashaying into a fancy hotel and signing the register as a matter of course. When an elegantly clad woman followed an equally well-dressed gentleman into the hotel and headed for the registration desk, Annie skittered toward a seating area in a far corner of the lobby, watching as the couple spoke with the clerk behind the desk.
Messenger by Moonlight Page 4
